


Breaking and Healing

by im_fairly_witty



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M, Sticks and Stones may have broken my bones, but tender words can heal me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_fairly_witty/pseuds/im_fairly_witty
Summary: The break on Hector's arm isn't from a fall or from a failed attempt to get over the bridge, it's from a last-ditch attempt to make peace with Imelda before fading away.Years have passed since he and Imelda have gotten back together and it's been paradise, but Hector still hasn't managed to tell Imelda she was responsible for the biggest fracture on his frame.





	Breaking and Healing

 

It took years for Hector to tell Imelda the truth. 

Things had been so fragile when Hector had first moved in with the Riveras, all tentative courtesy and awkward deference, that he’d lied when the twins were the first ones to ask him about how his radius bone had been fractured. 

“Haha, well, let’s just say you should have seen the other guy.” Hector had said with a wink, continuing to wrestle with the shoe he was attempting to cobble together beside them in the workshop.  

Tia Victoria wasn’t convinced though. A few months later, during one of their evening soap opera binges, she’d set her Coca-Cola on the coffee table and bluntly asked him how the bone had really been snapped. By now the old grey tape looped around the broken bone had long been replaced with a professional white plaster setting, masking his injury’s existence.

“It’s a really funny story,” Hector had chuckled, casually glancing at the bone in question before reaching for the remote to turn up the TV’s volume. “I’ll tell you later, we need to see whether or not Alejandre really is the father of Selena’s child first.”

Victoria had pursed her lips, but already knew he’d only get more evasive the more she pushed, so she’d rolled her eyes and settled back into her seat on the sofa.

It had been a year before Imelda had asked him the first time. They’d been lounging on the couch together one evening, Imelda tiredly resting her head on Hector's ribcage after a long day as he quietly read a book, both of them enjoying the simple pleasure of being so close in a quiet moment. 

But when he’d lifted his arm to turn a page, she’d reached out to tap the nearly forgotten plaster near his elbow.

“You’ve never mentioned how that happened.” She’d said, and the twinge that ran up Hector’s arm to where his heart would have been was a painful one. He’d suspected she didn’t remember, had started wearing short sleeves again only because of that suspicion, but now he knew for sure.

They’d both grown a lot in that year, thawing emotional barriers, learning how to trust again, learning to dare to enjoy each other’s touch again. But Hector still wasn’t ready to tell her. Not that night. So he’d adjusted his reading glasses and casually said something about not remembering how it had happened. She’d dozed off soon after, much to Hector’s relief.

It was fifteen years. Fifteen years before she found out. 

“HA! I bet musicians across Mexico knew to fear you mija.”

Imelda paused to listen in the hallway as she walked by the front room. Elena had only just arrived a few weeks ago and Hector had somehow managed to hit it off grandly with his granddaughter right from the start.  

“But,” Hector continued, his voice conspiratorial, “I bet you’ve never broken someone’s arm with that shoe of yours have you? Don’t tell your Mama Imelda, but that’s how I got this old snap on my arm, she came after me with her boot and my old bones were just too brittle to handle it that day.”

“Well, did you deserve it?” Elena’s voice said, cheerfully stern in the spirit of their spirited conversation.

“Probably.” Imelda heard Hector scoff, “Aye, the good old days. So tell me Elena, what kind of things are going on in music these days?”

Imelda waited, pushing down the terrible guilt twisting inside her until later that night as they were getting ready for bed before she said anything.

“Did I really break your arm?” She asked.

Hector froze in the middle of taking his shirt off, glancing over at her.

“You…you heard me and Elena?” He guessed, sliding his arm back into his sleeve.

Imelda gently stopped him and pulled the shirt off the rest of the way, exposing the old plaster near his elbow, now starting to yellow with age.

“Does it hurt?” Imelda asked.

“Oh, not really.” Hector said lightly, watching her trace her finger around the edge of the plaster on his arm. “I forget it’s there honestly, it’s really nothing.”

“Which means that it does hurt and you just don’t want me to feel bad.” Imelda said, looking up into his eyes.

Hector shrugged, looking sheepish and defeated. “Only when I lift really heavy things, it’s really not so bad ‘Melda, I’m used to pain. I’m sorry, you didn’t remember and I didn’t think you’d want to know. It’s been so long. I really don’t mind.”

“Well, you should have at least given me the chance to apologize.” Imelda said, the heat of the tears she was  _ not  _ going to cry getting into her voice instead.

“Diosa, please, lo siento, it’s alright.” Hector said, gently pulling her into a hug, knowing her true moods even better than she did. “We’ve both got some scars, I just happen to have some of the more visible kind. We’re so far past that now, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.” Imelda said quietly into his sternum.

“I forgave you as soon as it happened, mi amor.” Hector assured her, holding her tight. “Years and years and years ago. Besides,” he kissed her forehead, “Elena was right, I deserved it.”

Imelda looked up, “I told you never to say that again.” she said sternly.

“I apologize.” Hector said with a smile, kissing her cheekbone. 

“You’re trying to distract me.” Imelda huffed.

“Is it working?” Hector asked, then playfully kissed her on the mouth. 

“For now.” Imelda relented, resting her head against his collarbone. “But no more secrets.”

“No more secrets.” Hector agreed.

It could have just been Hector’s imagination, but for the first time in decades the dull pain in his arm seemed to have disappeared entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this tender one-shot. It came from an ask I got on my tumblr, where you can find a lot more of my Coco ramblings and headcanons!
> 
> \- Wit
> 
> im-fairly-whitty.tumblr.com


End file.
